Wise Council
by Some Totally Original Username
Summary: Molly worked as a youth leader, until she had to resign. Over the years, though, she kept in contact, and one day, Sherlock and John come in at the most - or least, if you're Sherlock - opportune moment. Basically fluff to keep myself from going crazy waiting for series three.


**I have the headcanon that Molly used to volunteer as a youth group leader at the local community center, until work started getting too overwhelming and she had to resign. But even after she quit, she still stayed in contact with the girls in the group as they started becoming teenagers, to the point where they liked her better than their real youth leaders.**

**But anyway. That's my headcanon. Enjoy it.**

**.**

While John wasn't a fan of using Molly, he had to admit, sometimes it was necessary. They had to have access to this body, and she held the keys in her hand. So he found himself following Sherlock (again) into the depths of St. Bart's (again) to find Molly and ask to see a body (again). The two swept into the morgue, and Sherlock's comment died in his mouth.

"Molly, he's _awful!_" A girl bemoaned, hugging Molly tightly and hiding her face in her shoulder, shaking in distress. "But he's so amazing and - oh my God, Molly, I really like him! He's my friend but I just adore him and I - I - !"

"Shh," Molly was soothing, stroking the frenzied girl's back. Sherlock realized that she hadn't seen either of them enter, or she simply wasn't paying attention to them. "Look. Just take a moment and breathe, okay? Just breathe. Now. He's been your friend for this long, so he obviously values you. Right?"

"I... I guess..."

"So. Let's think about the facts." Molly pulled her away and kept her hands on the girl's shoulders. The girl couldn't be older than sixteen. "He's your friend. He values you and goes to you for advice." She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "He's only just met this girl, and she looks just like you, doesn't she?"

"I... but Molly, he's rubbing her in my face! How am I supposed to tell him that I like him when he has a girlfriend he flaunts in front of me?"

"He's using her to get your attention." John didn't realize that he'd spoken until both girls jumped and wheeled around in surprise, accompanied by Sherlock's raised eyebrows. "Er..." he cleared his throat, painfully aware of his new audience and wondering why he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself. "Speaking as a man, sometimes if we think we don't have a chance with a girl, or if she doesn't notice us, we... we try to find someone who reminds us of her. It's stupid, really, but it's what we do."

Molly nodded with a smile. "Exactly." She said, turning back to the bewildered girl. "I promise you, he's trying to reach out to you. Don't tell him how you feel until after he breaks up with her - and it's going to happen eventually, because she's nothing like you in here." She playfully jabbed at her heart. "And he knows it. I give it another week at best."

The girl looked like she was going to explode with happiness. She squealed and tackled Molly in a hug that send both of them stumbling back. "Thank you, Molly!" She laughed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're a better mom than my mom is!"

"Now, I wouldn't say-."

"I have school. I've gotta go, bye!" The girl grabbed her bookbag and started trotting towards the door. "I'll text you later!" She paused next to John, then smiled awkwardly. "Thanks, sir." She said before hurrying off.

The door at the end of the hall slammed shut, and Molly sighed with a tired smile. "I used to be a youth leader." She explained to the men's prying looks. "But even though I had to quit, the girls come to me when they have advice or... just need a shoulder to cry on." She shrugged.

"You did well." Sherlock finally said, with a somewhat forced-looking smile. "She obviously trusts you enough to tell you everything about that... affair."

She laughed and shrugged. "Yes, well, I try my best with them. They're all turning sixteen, and it's going to be a nightmare. Now, what can I help you with?"

**.**

**Don't ask me when this takes place because I have no idea I just wanted to write fluff that didn't hurt for once.**


End file.
